The spiral only filled halfway before he collapsed, exhausted, panting from the exertion as if he had been working out in full plate armor for five laps around the training yard. The spiral instantly vanished. Thankfully, the pain was completely gone.
“Ah, unfortunate, but not unexpected. Your essence is not plentiful enough,” The Matriarch stated. “It just means you must return for your birthright at a later time.”
“Haha!” Felicity laughed as she flew around Tristan’s head, and this earned a swift slap from The Matriarch’s tail, launching the smaller fairy dragon to the floor next to Tristan.
“I told you, do not insult those of the royal blood.”
“But mooooom! He’s cut off my wing! It hurt! I had to regrow a whole wing!”
The Matriarch growled, “You are lucky that is all he did to you, foolish child. He has every right to completely tear you to pieces, if he has a mind for it.” She reached a massive claw down, extending one of the fingers to help Tristan stand on shaky legs. “Lord Tristan. I apologize for my daughter’s behavior.”
“It’s okay,” Tristan said in between shaky breaths as the ground felt solid under him once more. He felt elated for two reasons. The first was that this Matriarch was on his side. The second and more important one was the thought that he had used actual essence and was able to use magic. It overshadowed any negative emotions he might have felt at not unlocking this door. “How long does it take for my essence to regenerate?”
“Quickly. Faster if you rest. The other heritages generally regain their essence much slower. Elves are natural essence-weavers. Not as physically strong as others, but through artifice and imbuement spell types, you will compensate. You are much faster than other elfanoids, though; and more dexterous.”
“What spells types are Elves restricted to?” Also, Tristan thought, note to self – fairy dragons view everyone as elfanoid, not humanoid.
The Matriarch rattled off a list, “Illusions, flora, imbuement, artifice, enchantment, and fortune.” She smiled, “Not to mention your bloodline also gives you access to ice elementalism. Winterbloom is not just a name for the sake of a name; it is the energy coursing through your body.”
That’s…wow. I don’t know what half of those mean.
The smile became a thin, drawn line as her tone shifted. “You are limited, however, and cannot just do anything you desire. What you are determines what you may do with your essence, and how you can use it.”
“Right, I know that part,” Tristan said. “Speaking of what I am, my mother said that Elves came from across the sea, from a sunken kingdom. But they come from this place, this Realm, if what you’ve said is true – and it does sound true. Was she lying to me?”
“It is feasible that the Elves arrived on a different continent of the Mortal Realm before moving to their now-home. How old was your mother?”
“I…I never asked,” Tristan replied. “I can ask her when I get home, though.”
“Most Elves live two-thousand years, give or take a few hundred. I would guess she did come from across the ocean to where she currently resides, since she is not one of those who left on the Great Exodus.”
“Right…Felicity mentioned that I might live tens of thousands of years, but I guess that is not the norm for my heritage, right?”
The Matriarch nodded, “That is accurate. The Winterbloom bloodline is potent, and the most receptive to the essence of the Fey Realm. May I try an Eighth Order spell on you to see if I can discern something?”
“Sure!” Tristan replied. Eighth Order? The highest spell Gisele ever used was First Order. Bertram never got above Second!
The Matriarch raised her large foreleg over Tristan’s head and began speaking. “This spell is called Elf Nature Invocation. It can be cast at any Order but by spending more essence you increase the Order rank, and the information you receive. Paljasta minulle tämän tontun elämän pituus.” (Reveal to me the length of life of this elf). This Elvish phrase was accompanied by a motion of the claw-tips into the shape of a circle, with the equivalent of the ‘index’ finger tucked in to the palm.
The air seemed to be still, and Tristan saw a burst of sparking, almost lightning-like, pink energy trickling from the edges of the enormous fairy dragon’s eyes.
There was a vibrant, rainbow glow that cascaded from her claw and formed a stream that trickled onto Tristan’s head. He felt the odd liquid almost like goop through his hair. He wanted to say something about the texture, but the sheer thought that he was being subjected to an Eighth Order spell was keeping him silent through the sticky process.
A moment later the substance vanished, and Tristan could not feel it on him. The Matriarch grinned broadly, “I figured as much.”
“Why speak in Elvish?” Tristan asked.
“It is my natural language, Lord Tristan. And in your case, I would recommend using Elvish for your spells as well. It keeps foes guessing.”
“How long until he dies?” Felicity asked as she returned to her usual coloration.
The Matriarch shot her a glowering stare before turning back to Tristan, “Your base lifespan is ten-thousand years. However, Winterbloom are normally far longer lived than that, and this spell confirmed my suspicions. As long as you come here to the Fey Realm once a year to rejuvenate yourself, and you do not die of disease or injury, you could live even longer. Especially if you cultivate your essence crucible through spinning it or harvesting the capacity of others.”
That floored Tristan and he went completely silent. I…I could live longer than the Kingdom of Bhant has been around? Longer than history goes back? The thought was not just sobering but also humbling, making him feel the whole weight of the situation that he now found himself in. Long-lost royalty of a non-Mortal Realm heritage.
“There’s no way…”
“No way of what?” The Matriarch asked.
Tristan put his hand on his chest, feeling the sturdy armor plate under his gauntlet. “I’ve never been the special one in my family. Hell, my father did not even want me. I was the unexpected child.”
The Matriarch frowned and even Felicity made a slight disappointed noise. “That is…sad to hear,” The Matriarch softly said. “But you are special, Lord Tristan.”
Just because of who my mother is? Not because of anything I’ve done or worked towards. Just happenstance? He shook his head, “I…Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to look the gift-chimera in the lion-head, but this…it’s so much, so fast.”
He took a deep, shaky breath. “I…I want this. I want to be special. But I want to achieve it. Not just…be given it. My grandfather made a name for himself, founded our noble house, even made his own bloodline from eating an Arch Dragon! I need to live up to that legacy.”
The Matriarch nodded, and her claw shifted to a human-sized hand as she gently set it on his shoulder, “…Tristan. Your bloodline is a part of you. If you must achieve greatness to prove that you are indeed special, then you should do that. Whatever you need, whatever you require to reach your full potential – we are your ever faithful servants. It is what we were made for. It is as much a part of us as our sense of whimsy and wonder.”
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Tristan didn’t know what to feel. Honored, in a way, that he was being given such deference. Unworthy, in a way, since he did not do anything to deserve it. But there was another emotion, lingering beneath the surface that he had suppressed his whole life because he was the unwanted tertiary heir whose only purpose was to be married off to another noble house to strengthen his family’s ties to the kingdom.
He felt pride.
Tristan nodded, “I’m…at a bit of a loss, though. What do I do now? I failed my king’s quest since I didn’t bring back a fairy dragon.”
“What did he require?”
Tristan tapped the scepter in his belt loop, “This, and the corpse of the creature that did it.”
“Do you need a corpse?”
Weird question, but yeah. Tristan nodded, “Don’t go killing one of your own for me, though.”
“We have a graveyard of our kind. A few are relatively fresh. I am sure they would be more than happy to know that their remains went to help you in your journey.”
Tristan felt slightly disturbed by that willingness to just give up their dead, but he nodded nonetheless. “Thanks, let’s do that.” He bowed his head slightly, “You’ve been very helpful, and I am sorry for being so suspicious. But, well, when you’ve been trained to hunt dragons…its hard to trust them.”
“I completely understand. And as for suspicious, Lord Tristan, you’ve been quite the reasonable visitor.”
Tristan nodded and looked around, “I need to go home. But I want to come back and learn more. I just…it’s a lot at once.”
He needed to return to a place that was familiar to deal with all of this. He needed to talk to his mother and grandfather. And relax a bit. After all, he’d been on a quest almost constantly chasing a fairy dragon across the kingdom for two years. And there’s all this information about spells, these different types that I have no clue about, how to use them, that whole vault situation…I just need to have a bit of time to decompress.
“Of course. Let us prepare you for your return journey, Lord Tristan.”
Checking his hip pouch, he felt the comfort of the family’s noble crest; an amulet on a small chain. The symbol of their house, a draconic neck and head in side-profile, with a sword through it. When I get home, I can at least prove who I am despite my changed appearance. His reception at the family’s ancestral home was also a concern – but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. I could always go to the countryside estate and send word to mother and grandfather.
“Just remember that this is also your home, my liege. Your true home,” The Matriarch replied. “Even though you are male, you are still of the royal bloodline. You may stay as long as you desire.” She paused, “Well, if you exerted your essence every day. If you did not, you would suffer essence sickness after a day’s time.”
“I can’t just stay here…I was raised as a dragonslayer. It’s what I am supposed to do. Protect the Mortal Realm from the dragon species of the Elemental Realms. If I’m this unique, special bloodline of Elven rulers, I need to earn that.”
Tristan felt that almost as strongly as he did the desire to see what was behind that vault door. Whatever it was that was promised to his Winterbloom bloodline. He felt, he knew, with every fiber of his being, that he would not be satisfied until he acquired what was inside the vault.
Tristan was supremely confident that he could fight an actual dragon if he had the chance, as he’d been taught to do. After all, he was trained by the man who entered the Elemental Realm of Fire and slain the Arch Dragon who resided there. A man who forged his own bloodline. He was a legend. I have to live up to his expectations.
“Then I have a proposal for your path to growth, my lord. I would advise you to return to your Realm, complete this quest you speak of, and then set off on your own to defeat creatures to increase your essence capacity – dragons included. In that way, you may have enough power to unlock this door and claim the items within. I am sure whatever lies within will be valuable.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
She looked over at Felicity who was lifting herself, “And my daughter will be happy to accompany you to assist you in any way. She has an extradimensional storage space as all our kind do. And, despite her impertinence, she is a fount of knowledge when it comes to your lineage, your capabilities of spell types as an Elf, and Mortal Realm lore.”
Tristan glanced sideways at the fairy dragon who gave him an exasperated look. “I am not really a fan of Felicity,” he commented. “And I don’t want any negative feelings coming my way from a travel companion.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Felicity snapped back.
The Matriarch sighed, “I cannot force you to accept assistance, my Lord Tristan, and we do have other fairy dragons who would be more than willing to accompany you if you requested. But Felicity has been in the Mortal Realm for the past ten years. Others of our kind are out there, but I do not know when one will come back. She has the best idea of what that Realm is like in whatever era it is in.”
“I can come back here any time, right? With this ring? If, for example, I got pissed off at Felicity and wanted to have another fairy dragon accompany me?” Tristan asked.
“Correct. One hour to channel the essence. Remember that you will depart from and arrive at the same location in both Realms. And yes on obtaining a new companion, although my daughter better mind her manners if she knows what is good for her!”
This earned a slight deflation and groan like a bratty teenager from Felicity, but she kept her mouth shut.
Tristan nodded, “Then I will follow your insightful direction. I want whatever is behind that door.” And if it’s super-powerful weapons and armor, then I can show up Bertram and Gisele. Maybe even go into an Elemental Realm portal and fight one of the Arch Dragons like grandfather! Forge my own bloodline, even? Fusing this Winterbloom and the Dragonslayer ones? Now that is a heroic goal!
“I’m going to return home, talk to my mom, and then– wait a second. Could I bring her here?” Tristan asked.
“You could. She would then outrank you. Anyone touching you can travel with you with the Ring’s power. I urge caution, though, for non-Elf heritages. None have visited the Fey Realm before, and I do not know what would happen.”
He looked over at Felicity, “…I owe you an apology. I am sorry. If we are going to travel together, I owe you that much.”
“About time!” She replied. “I don’t forgi-” a guttural growl from The Matriarch echoed through the space, and Felicity shook in fear, gulping audibly. “I forgive you,” she muttered. “But no more cutting me. And definitely no choking, hear me?”
Tristan nodded, “As long as you don’t do any weird, tricky magic with me. Like that fruit rind.”
“I told you that wasn’t me!”
The Matriarch cleared her throat, returning the two’s attention to her. “Now, let’s get you a corpse you can return home with.”
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Tristan was standing in front of the tree in a small, dirt circle surrounded by green and blue grass that waved gently in the breeze. He had a small, burlap sack with the corpse of an elderly fairy dragon inside it - which discomforted him slightly, but he wanted to complete this quest, regardless.
The reason for this location is that this would be his return-point. Where he would come back to when he departed the Mortal Realm again. Glancing around, he felt a little overwhelmed as the fairy dragons all bowed their heads as they perched on their limbs. He’d never been the object of reverence before, but it felt…awkward and amazing at the same time. This must be how grandfather felt when he brought back the Arch Dragon’s head.
The man had elevated the family to minor nobility through his actions. Without Tristan’s grandfather, they would not have their prestige, their house, their bloodline and unique spell type, or the respect that enabled them to travel to court every week. He was Tristan’s role model. I’m going to bag myself an Arch Dragon, just like him.
Felicity was perched on his shoulder, grumbling slightly under her breath. She waved her front, right paw, and the burlap sack in Tristan’s hand vanished with a slight pop as reality distorted around it. “I can do other stuff,” she stated.
“Spells?” Tristan asked.
“Sort of? I don’t have to say anything to do them. They are just a part of me.” She held up her paw and it turned into a human hand with five fingers. “I can shapeshift, turn invisible, and do the extradimensional storage space. It can’t store an unlimited number of items, but it is pretty large in there!”
Tristan’s attention was drawn to the front as The Matriarch emerged from the enormous tree, and she gestured as a pair of smaller, dog-sized fairy dragons flew over with a cloak that was silver with icy-blue thread and fastened it around his armor. They flew up and away, perching on branches and joining their fellows in bowing.
“Remember,” The Matriarch stated, “You will return to the place you arrived and left from in either the Fey Realm or the Mortal Realm. Return when you think you have enough essence to open the vault, or if you need a refuge. The cloak is a symbol of your office. Only fairy dragons and the most learned people will know what it means. And only you can wear it – the same goes for the ring: they are bound to you now. If another person tries to wear either, they will suffer a horrific fate. Wear them with pride, Lord Tristan.”
Tristan nodded, “Thank you, for everything. This is a lot to take in…but I swear I’ll return and open that vault.”
“It is your right. We await your return and to serve you, my lord.”
I’ll show them all. Bertram and Gisele? I’m going to be more famous than either of you. Turn in this corpse and return the king’s scepter, kill some monsters and dragons. That’ll show them all that I’m not just some useless third child!
Tristan felt confidence. Assured in his set of short-term goals. I will earn this new power. I’m not taking it for granted. And I’m going to become strong enough to claim whatever is in that vault. It’s mine by right, and I want to get in there.
He channeled essence down his arm, into his hand, and the ring upon it. The world turned white around him.